strongholdrising

by Lisanne Norman

  Even more curious, he placed the top section down on the bench then tipped the contents of the bottom part into his hand. With a shock, he realized it was a Brotherhood coin, the token that each junior Brother or Sister was given when they had completed their training and were finally accepted into the Order. Only this wasn’t made of bronze, it was silver, and like the original in Stronghold’s safe, it had a tiny nung flower at the center of the triple spiral. He was holding Vartra’s die and one of His coins.

  From behind, he felt a hand clasp hold of his shoulder, making him jump in surprise. He dropped the die to the floor even as his other hand closed round the coin.

  “You found it, then,” said a quiet voice he recognized. “This one is yours to keep.”

  Lijou tried to turn around but the hand tightened, forcing him to remain where he was.

  “You must leave now,” said Vartra as gradually, the light in the forge began to dim. “Don’t linger in the temple, return to your room with all speed. Your mate needs you.”

  “Kha’Qwa!” he exclaimed, breaking free of the Entity’s grasp. “What’s happened to her?” But there was no one there, only the darkness of the void lit by faint ribbons of colored light.

  He spun back around, finding himself looking at the familiar wooden door with the carved triple spiral. Light sparkled off the crystal at the heart of the carving.

  “Return in two weeks,” said the voice softly from behind him. “I will be here.”

  Swiftly, he turned again, this time to a blinding glow of light. He put his hand up to shield his yes. “How? How can I be sure I arrive when You say?”

  “Picture Me there, then think of the month and day,” came the faint reply. He felt a hand touch the small of his back before he was pushed firmly into the light. “I will be there.”

  He was falling, and instinct made him cry out— seconds before he jolted himself back to consciousness.

  The flames in the braziers flickered lazily, casting long shadows across the seated statue in front of him. He blinked several times, uncertain if he was really back in the temple. Then, as he put his hand up to rub his eyes, he dropped the coin and remembered Vartra’s warning.

  Snatching it up from the floor, he scrambled to his feet and ran for the doors at the far end of the main aisle. Using his wrist comm, he called Yaszho while mounting the stairs three at a time.

  When he reached his office, through the open door, he could see Yaszho crouched behind the desk. The metallic scent of blood filled the air, so much so that he could taste it in his mouth. Heart pounding, he clutched at the doorpost, too afraid to enter.

  Hearing him, Yaszho looked up, sympathy and compassion clear in his face and in the set of his ears. “Best you stay there, Father Lijou,” he said gently. “I called Physician Muushoi. He’ll be here any moment.”

  Lijou pushed himself away from the door and walked unsteadily over to the desk. “How bad?” he asked, surprised to hear how ragged his voice sounded as he tried not to look down at the still form of his life-mate.

  Yaszho hesitated, obviously unsure how to answer him.

  Lijou could sense his thoughts, knew his aide was wondering whether to treat him as he would a Brother, or an outsider. He looked, then gave a mewl of horror.

  “Bad,” said Yaszho, pressing a wad of cloth against Kha’Qwa’s temple. “She’s losing a lot of blood.”

  “Call Noni,” Lijou said, crouching down beside her unconscious body. “What happened?” He reached out to push back the hair that had fallen over her face. Kha’Qwa— my bright and beautiful love! How could this have happened to you?

  “She must have fallen and hit her head,” he heard his aide say as he got up to use the desk comm. “I wouldn’t move her, Father,” Yaszho warned, grasping him by the shoulder to get his attention as he was about to move her head to a more comfortable position. “Leave her till Muushoi arrives. He should be here any minute now.”

  “She’s bleeding,” Lijou said as his fingers came away covered in blood. Then he saw the crystal chiddoe paperweight lying under his desk. He reached out and picked it up. A smear of red marred the smooth surface. “It was on my desk, on the pile of books,” he said numbly, looking at the scattered papers and books that surrounded her.

  He gave a soft moan as he saw the dark stain on the carpet beside her. Dropping the paperweight, he put his hand on her swollen belly, feeling it ripple beneath his fingers. He realized then that her black robe and the carpet beneath her were glistening, saturated with her blood.

  Vartra, I beg you, don’t take her from me! Great Goddess Ghyakulla, protect them! I couldn’t bear to live without her!

  “She’s bleeding heavily and has gone into labor,” Yaszho was saying to Noni over the comm.

  “Get that physician to see to her till I arrive,” he heard the elderly healer reply. “Maybe cluttering up my garden with your aircar and teaching Teusi to land it in that bird’s nest of yours wasn’t such a bad idea.”

  *

  As they came out of the elevator, Noni saw Yaszho waiting for them outside the infirmary. She didn’t need to see the set of his ears to know how serious the situation was. He hurried toward them, impatiently gesturing their escort away.

  “Gods, am I glad to see you,” he said quietly, but with heartfelt sincerity. “Father Lijou won’t let the surgeon treat her properly. You have to talk to him, make him see sense before we lose both Kha’Qwa and the cub!”

  “Stop babbling, lad,” she said tartly. “Just take me in to them.”

  *

  The sterile white room was silent save for the quiet rhythmic beep of the monitor. Kha’Qwa lay on her side, the bright titian of her pelt and hair matted and dulled by blood and pain. An infusion unit had been attached to one arm, the other was encased in a splint. The female nurse glanced briefly at Noni as she left carrying a container of blood-soaked dressings.

  Lijou was standing still as a statue, looking out of the window. He turned as he heard the door close.

  The white streaks at either side of his dark face highlighted the fact that the inner lids were beginning to show at the corners of his eyes. He was in shock himself.

  “You look worse than her, Lijou,” she said gruffly. “Good thing you left one of those mobile comm links with me. Had a feeling I’d be needing it about now.” She turned to Teusi, passing him her walking stick. “Fetch us a drink of c’shar, lad. Plenty of sweetener, the Father looks like he could do with it.”

  Nodding briefly, Teusi put her bag and stick down on the nearest chair and left.

  “What’s this I hear about you not letting them treat her?” she asked softly, walking over to the bed to check on Kha’Qwa.

  “He wants to cut her open,” said Lijou, joining her at the bedside. “Remove our cub, and…” He stopped, obviously finding it difficult to continue. “She’d never be able to have any more, Noni. I can’t make that decision for her! Muushoi knows nothing about birthing! He’s scared, scared of losing them both! So am I! How could I let him operate on her?”

  Noni could feel how terrified he was. She put a comforting hand on his arm, feeling him shivering despite the warmth of the room and the thickness of his wool robe.

  “Your son needs to be born, Lijou,” she said gently. “Or you will lose them both. She’s bleeding too much, and in shock. That’s why she’s gone into labor. Her body is rejecting the cub, letting him die to save her.”

  “What?” he looked at her, eyes wide in disbelief.

  “You want to hold that little son of yours, don’t you?” she said, her voice a low, persuasive purr. “He’s waited a long time to be with you. You wouldn’t deny him that, would you?”

  “A son?”

  The door opened again but Lijou didn’t notice it. As Teusi appeared at her elbow holding a mug of c’shar, Noni gently reached for Lijou’s mind. Taking advantage of his distraction, slowly and carefully, she slipped past his mental shields.

  Tightening her grip on his arm, Noni drew Lijo
u back a few steps from the bed. “You’re tired,” she said, taking the mug from Teusi and holding it out to him. “A drink will make you feel better.”

  “It’s a son?” asked Lijou, never taking his eyes from her face as automatically he took the mug from her and raised it to his lips.

  “Oh, yes. A healthy boy,” she said, keeping her voice low as she watched the priest drink. “He’ll have your eyes and her coloring. You take your drink and go with Teusi now. We’ll call you when the berran’s arrived.”

  Lijou lowered the mug. “But Kha’Qwa…”

  “Will be fine. You finish that drink and go with Teusi. Let me do what I must,” she purred, letting him go with her hand and mind as she saw his eyes begin to take on a glassy look.

  He nodded, raising the mug and draining it before handing it to Teusi. “You do what you must,” he said slowly, letting the youth take him by the arm and lead him toward the door.

  The drug Teusi had used, coupled with the suggestion she’d planted in his mind, would make him sleep for several hours. Dismissing him from her thoughts, she turned her attention to Kha’Qwa.

  The door had no sooner shut than a voice from behind her demanded, “What did you do to him?”

  She turned and glared at the physician. “None of your damned business,” she snapped. “You got that operating theater of yours ready?”

  “Yes, but…”

  “I’ve been sent for to birth this cub, and by the Gods, that’s what I’m going to do,” she snarled. “You got a problem with that?”

  “I can’t operate without Father Lijou’s permission…”

  Noni stared at the physician. “You heard him say I was to do what I must, didn’t you?” she demanded.

  “Yes, but you’ve done something to him!”

  With her free hand she reached out and grasped hold of him by the front of his blue medic’s tunic, pulling him forward till they were almost nose to nose. “I’ll be doing something to you in a minute! Now, will you give me the medical knowledge I need, or do I have to go into your mind and take it by force? We haven’t got much time, Muushoi, so make the right decision now!”

  “You can’t operate on her!” he said, trying to remove her hand.

  “Says who?” snarled Noni, flexing her claws till the physician yelped. “I want to try and stop that bleeding without butchering her! It can be done, but not by the likes of you! You’re too damned scared of failing to try!”

  “A skill transfer needs practice! You can’t just take the knowledge from me and expect to be able to use it!”

  “I’ve forgotten more about medicine than you’ll ever know,” she spat, reaching out mentally for him.

  the Couana, Zhal-S’Asha, 19th day (October)

  The cabin that had been assigned to him on the Couana was the one he’d used on the outward journey from Haven to Shola five months before. A private ship, belonging to the Touiban swarm led by Toueesut, it was normally captained by their Sumaan pilot, Shaayiyisis. There were two large adjoining rooms, one for the six Touiban males and the other for their six wives, with a third room large enough for Shaayiyisis and his crew of two. Since this swarm worked mainly on Shola, the remaining four cabins had been furnished to accommodate Sholans. It was one of these that had been set aside for him.

  He had toyed with the thought of using the Sumaans’ room instead, but balked at the thought of sleeping in an oval sand pit, even if it was heated. And the garish opulence of the Touiban suites was not something he could cope with right now. Sighing, he let the door slide shut behind him and approached the bed where his kit lay. Someone— probably Banner— had obviously thought he’d be more comfortable in the cabin he’d used before than in an unfamiliar one, forgetting the state of mind he’d been in during that trip.

  Slinging the bag he was carrying on the bed, he sat down, reaching for the larger carryall. Opening it, he pushed aside the spare clothing then drew out a plain wooden box, checking it to make sure it was undamaged and hadn’t been tampered with: the wax seal over the lock remained intact. Getting to his feet, he took it to the chest of drawers that stood against the far wall. Placing it inside one of the smaller drawers, he locked it then removed and pocketed the key. That done, he returned to his bed, and stripping off his jacket, swept both bags to the floor before lying down.

  The bedding was faintly perfumed, a scent he wished he’d forgotten as more memories began to rise from his subconscious. Pushing them back, he rolled onto his side, letting his body relax into the curved dip in the center of the bed, and closed his eyes. He was tired, too tired to be troubled by any more memories.

  *

  He woke to the sound of a loud thump and an involuntary cry of pain. Still groggy, he sat up and peered across the room at the crumpled figure of Banner.

  “Dammit, Kusac!” the other snarled. “What the hell did you do that for?”

  “You know better than to touch me when I’m asleep,” he said, his hand automatically going to his neck and finding it bare. Momentarily confused, he glanced at the night table, seeing his torc lying there. A vague recollection of it causing him discomfort while he slept came to him as he picked it up and put it on. “What did you want?”

  “Time for third meal,” said the older Sholan, picking himself up off the floor and checking his shoulder.

  “Third meal?” He rubbed his eyes with his fists, wondering where the time had gone.

  “You needed the rest,” said the other. “I did check in on you, but you were deeply asleep. I thought it best to leave you since I know you came directly from Stronghold.” He hesitated as Kusac swung his feet over the edge of the bed and got up. “Has Carrie had the cub?” he asked carefully.

  “Yes,” he said brusquely. Then belatedly, “A daughter. Born at sunrise.”

  “Vartra be praised.”

  He shot him a look, but there was only genuine pleasure on Banner’s face— his Second had no idea what he was carrying. Tugging his tunic down, he headed for the door. “Next time you need to wake me, don’t touch me if my torc’s off. Use the buzzer on the door, or the comm unit. You know I can’t control my responses when I’m asleep.”

  *

  The evening meal was a quiet one. Since the Couana had been set on auto, and the main controls routed to the mess comm unit, they were all able to take a meal break together.

  Conversation was sparse and sporadic because by convention, no business would be discussed until after the meal was over, and there was only one question on everyone’s mind.

  He picked at his food, delaying the inevitable for as long as he could before he had to eventually push his half-cleared plate aside and reach for the jug of c’shar and the remaining mug.

  “Where are we going, and why did we steal the Touibans’ ship?” asked Dzaou.

  “I told you, you’ll be briefed in three days, when we arrive at our destination,” he said, reaching for the sweetener and powdered whitener to add to his drink.

  “Why the secrecy? Who’re we going to tell?” Dzaou demanded sarcastically. “I’m not convinced this is Brotherhood business. I think it’s some mad scheme of your own.”

  “We’re on Brotherhood business, that’s all you need to know for now.”

  “But stealing a private ship, especially the one belonging to the only complete Touiban swarm on Shola— that’s begging for an interspecies incident! You were brought up as a Clan heir, you should be putting Shola’s good before anything else. You’re a Brother, now, dammit!”

  “There won’t be an incident, and the Couana will be returned unharmed within three weeks,” he said, rising. “I find your concern for the Touibans somewhat hypocritical, Dazou, given your past history.”

  There was a stillness. “What do you know of my past?” asked Dzaou quietly.

  “Everything,” he snapped, tail swaying in anger. “Don’t presume to question me. Just obey your orders.” He looked past the tan-colored Sholan to the black-pelted Banner. “I’ll be on the bridge, standing watc
h for the next three hours. Route my controls there. Arrange a roster, two on, four off, every three hours. You’re in charge.”

  *

  Banner watched him leave then rounded on Dzaou. “What the hell are you trying to do?” he demanded. “Goad him into a fight? He’s fought a Death Challenge. You willing to stand up to him and risk this mission and your life?”

  Dzaou glanced uncertainly at the others but the support he hoped for wasn’t there. “How d’you know about the Challenge?” he demanded.

  “Because I made it my business to find out about him,” hissed Banner, ears laid back. “What’s your problem? Did something go wrong back at the ‘port?”

  “No, but he’s unstable, for Vartra’s sake! He should be hospitalized, not leading this mission, if it is one!”

  “It’s a mission, and he’s stable, just getting over the TeLaxaudin attempt to cure him, that’s all,” Banner snapped back before switching his glare to the other three round the table. “Any of you got similar reservations about our Captain?”

  “Not me,” said Chima, sitting back in her seat.

  Jayza hesitated. “I don’t know him well enough to have an informed opinion. If not for gossip, I’d have no doubts.”

  “Then don’t listen to gossip,” said Banner harshly, getting to his feet and circling the table. “Khadui?”

  The comms operator shrugged. “He’s the Captain. A taste for his own company is no crime, nor is a short temper.”

  “He’s different, alien compared to the rest of us,” said Dzaou forcefully. “Am I the only one who can see how unbalanced he is?”

  “You can see what you want, just keep it to yourself and do your job,” said Banner, coming to a stop behind him. He placed his hand on the older male’s shoulder, clenching his fingers till his claws extended and penetrated through the jacket to the flesh below. “You jeopardize this mission, and it won’t be Kusac you’ll need to worry about. I’ll take you down myself.”